


He, Who Waits On The Throne

by StylishChocobutt



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU where Noct doesn't escape Insomnia, Gen, It wasn't supposed to be, This is basically sleeping beauty, but it is, im going to hell for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StylishChocobutt/pseuds/StylishChocobutt
Summary: What if Noctis never escaped the Fall of Insomnia and was forced to make the ultimate sacrifice? What if he lost everything, only to realise he couldn't escape his duty after all?'Where the City had once been illuminated by the very life of those individuals who had called it home; now it was the blaze and residue of the dissolving Wall that eased the eye but not the heart. Lightning darted across the crestfallen sky and the rain began anew.'AU Where Noctis is present during the Fall of Insomnia and desperately races back to the Citadel despite orders to leave for Hammerhead; what he finds however may change the course of history forever. In order to maintain the Wall and expel Niflheim from the City, Noctis is a prisoner to his own throne room. Prompto, Ignis and Gladio refuse to believe the news reports but are unable to re-enter the City. This AU Fic is based off of the 'Deleted FFXV Scenes' on youtube, taking a twist on their meaning. Somewhere along the lines it turned into Sleeping Beauty.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Are you ready for some hurt? Because this is going to hurt.  
> This fanfic is based on the deleted scenes that never quite made it to the game, because I absolutely adore the first clip of Noctis walking down those steps and kicking butt.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkVYVpxNarU - Video is here!
> 
> Many of these scenes were in Japanese so this actually turned out harder to write than I thought it would. Thank god for being able to speak Japanese. And thank god for my friends living 9 hours ahead of me to check my translations.
> 
> But yeah. Bad-ass Noct and stuff. I'm planning on continuing if enough people want me to. :')

_‘When darkness veils the world, the King of Light shall come.'_

An unnatural darkness blanketed Insomnia that night accompanied by an eerie silence. No longer did the hum of cars or the bustle of people keep the City alive; only the silence of the dead and the groans of Daemons vibrated throughout the streets. Any building that had survived the onslaught of flame and war machine alike remained tall but burned with an unsung passion. The air itself hummed with crimson energy that snaked its way along the corpses; the corpses of Kingsglaive and Crown Citizens alike. Not a day earlier those corpses had been walking, talking, breathing individuals with a whole life to look forward to. The smoke; originating from the blistering and crackling bodies of Magitek Soldiers, of the infantry that had followed in the wake of the Daemons, stung at the eye and suffocated the lungs.

Where the City had once been illuminated by the very life of those individuals who had called it home; now it was the blaze and residue of the dissolving Wall that eased the eye but not the heart. Lightning darted across the crestfallen sky and the rain began anew.

It… was _appropriate._ The rain washed the life and memories away, as if they had never existed in the first place. It was near unbelievable to think that such light – that such life – could be snuffed out in the space of a few hours.

He’d lost everything.

He’d lost every _one_.

Heavy and grief-stricken footfalls descended the once majestic steps that led to the most magnificent building of the City: The Citadel. There was no grace to his walk; yet neither was there the usual slouch. Bodies littered the uppermost platform of the stairs, and Prince- No, King Noctis Lucis Caelum glanced but once behind him at the fallen Kingsglaive. He’d seen the same man but an hour before when he’d ascended the steps to attend the peace treaty – so full of duty and obligation to the role that had been nothing but the death of him. Not even the slightest bit of emotion touched his expression as he tore his gaze away from the sight; he could no longer see the point behind mourning the hundreds – the thousands – that had lost their lives that night. There was but one thing the King could do now.

Only one thing Noctis could do now.

Niflheim’s soldiers had already gathered at the bottom of the steps; a dark sea of machines that spanned the area around the fountain. The Crystal remained within the Citadel and Noctis was well aware that it’s power was their goal. He now stood between an entire army and Iedolas’ prize and he’d be damned by the Six if he was just going to roll over and let them have it. 

__

“Walk tall, my son.”

It was his father’s last words that still grounded him; that still gave him a reason to keep moving forward. The ring on his finger was heavy and appeared to tug at his very existence. Was this the weight his father had borne all those years? Digging away at him to the point where he’d even needed the use of a cane? The thought alone did nothing but provoke his anger further. The moment King Regis had died, the Wall had fallen and allowed for Niflheim’s infantry to wreak havoc on the streets; killing man, woman and child alike with little discrimination.

There was no way he was letting those damned Nifs get their hands on the Crystal.

Continuing his descent down the blood-stained stone stairs, the first Magitek soldier finally noticed him. Whether it’s programming alerted the others or perhaps he was just that careless in how loud his footing was, the others soon turned their inhumane crimson gazes on him. 

Guns were raised and aimed.

An ear-splitting rain of bullets descended on the steps around him, breaking the stone and sending up shards and clouds of dust. A single bullet was mere inches from his face before it shattered off of the Armiger that crystallised to life around him; the tug of the ring threatening to tug him to his knees, but he continued to walk tall. An increasing number of bullets struck against the Armiger as Noctis slowly paced his way down the steps, relishing the destruction and revenge he was about to rain down upon them.  
Reaching the middle platform between the Citadel and the soldiers he rose a hand to his face before thrusting it aside.

The Armiger sprang to life under his command. Crystallised blades solidified even further into darkened weapons of all shapes and sizes around him. All thirteen of them hung in the air as Noctis drew a slow breath in. The lights that fell free from the blades in sparkles reminded him much of dappled sunlight on the waters current, fleeting and beautiful. Serene. Yet even the calmest of rivers could be deadly, especially when wrought with grief and devastation. Bullets continued to shower down upon him; nothing but a dull drone as the blades began to circle his figure faster than the eye could track.

Outstretching a palm ahead of him, the familiar hum of an engine blade broke through the sound of gunfire and he closed his grip over it.

And warped.

The instant he was in the fray, he turned his body to take down an Magitek unit to his left with a strike of the blade. It embedded itself in the machines chest and Noctis instinctively let go as he allowed his feet to power him forward. Retrieving the lance the moment he had relinquished the blade; the following MT stood no better a chance than the first his brought it sharply down onto the tech’s shoulder. Using that as an anchor, Noctis propelled himself up and over the machine before tearing the lance free and ultimately carving the MT in two in the process.

His foot landed against a third Magitek unit’s gun, and he used his speed and acceleration to throw himself even further into the fray. There was little to no regard for his own personal safety; only a burning desire for revenge. Impaling the lance into the cement behind the fallen line of MTs, he shifted his body weight and spun on the pole to catch his legs in a death grip over his next victims head; which was torn free with a simple twist of his body.

Landing crouched against the ground, he threw forward the full might of the Armiger on the troops afar that continued to pointlessly rain bullets on the King. Crystallised blades dispatched them almost instantly. The Armiger continued to spin and destroy the machines whilst Noctis lazily turned his back on the fray to saunter towards the Citadel once more. His shoes crackled against the broken machinery; splashed against the puddles of blood.

His foes were mere machines and their programming demanded the destruction of the Lucian King.

The moment he had turned his back to them, the remaining MTs charged up the steps only to be crushed under the weight of the Armiger as it returned to his side once more. Noctis paid them no heed and turned his gaze to the heights of the Citadel where the smarter units had begun to climb. Luckily, the Crystal was located in the innermost sanctum, but with the destruction that the building had already faced Noctis didn’t want to tempt fate in thinking they weren’t going to find a way in. Shifting his now-crimson gaze to a slightly higher point, he drew on the crackling energies of the Crystal that gathered over his body. There was a brief feeling of weightlessness and vertigo, before the rather stomach turning realisation he was now falling.

Still, it did no more than slightly tug at his otherwise still and vengeful heart. Warping to the side and materialising his father’s blade – which still felt as if it carried the burden the fallen King had – to his hand, he crashed it down on the climbing MT unit; which didn’t have even the slightest moment of realisation before it was falling to the ground below. Another warp threw him further up into the air as he embedded the same weapon into the side of the building to stabilise himself. In the past Gladiolus had berated him for his reckless and instinctive warping abilities – constantly telling him that if he kept it up, he’d warp himself off of the side of the building.

How ironic that seemed now.

The sword vanished from existence below him before crystallising in his hand as he began to fall anew. Throwing it across the gap between the two walls of the Citadel, he tugged on the connection that lingered behind and warped to it; catching the blade in his grasp. Having but moments to shift his body weight into a swing, he manoeuvred himself up and around it before propelling himself downwards and straight into the path of another climbing MT. Cutting the rope that held it up, he delved the blade into another unit beneath it; sending both toppling to the ground – which was no longer that far away - below. Striking a third MT during his fall, he impaled the blade through its chest – hearing a sickening crunch as it sliced through machinery.

Finally, his boots hit the ground once more and Noctis righted himself. Unfortunately, his time in the air had given the units on the ground to develop some sense; giving him no time to recover as missiles flew in his direction.

Or at least judging by the sudden onslaught of fire and the crash of stone around him, Noctis assumed that was what they had resorted to. Once more the Armiger materialised around him and deflected the rockets off to the side and back at the MTs; all but destroying the steps around the King.

There was no emotion left in his gaze as he glanced behind him at the fallen troops. The Armiger spun around him relentlessly as silence fell on the area.

King Noctis turned his back on both his fallen City, citizens and foes and slowly made his way back into the Citadel.

The carnage inside the Citadel was just as horrendous as the City outside. Age-old paintings that decorated the corridor he strode down were now splattered with a new colour entirely; red. Splattered with the blood of both Lucian and Niflheim soldiers who had taken up arms in an attempt to save the King and the Prince. Noctis slowed his pace momentarily as he cast his gaze down at one of the Kingslaive in particular; a man who’d likely been in the prime of his life, hand gripped uselessly around a dagger. His braids were soaked with dried blood, his gaze still looking forward in the horror of realisation. Noctis’ thoughts were so dulled, so detatched from his existance that he could barely recall the name of this individual to the forefront of his mind. Nick? Nics? Nyx. Nyx Ulric. A man who had only been recently named a hero for saving one of his brethren in the battlefield at the risk of his own life; at the risk of what he had just lost this night.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do so; perhaps a shred of whatever humanity he was trying to hold back, but Noctis moved to kneel aside this man and carefully closed his eyes. He had deserved more; they all had. Not one of them should have been robbed of the sunlight of the following morning. Of that very sunlight that now threatened to glimpse over the horizon.

Returning to his feet, the former Crown Prince of Lucis continued to walk amongst the pile of bodies that led up to his destination.

The throne room. As he walked, he let his mind wander into memories in a desperate attempt to distract his gaze from the horrors he passed.

 

\----

 

_3 hours before the Fall of Insomnia. 5 hours before the scheduled treaty signing._

“-ctis? Prince Noctis?”

The hum of the Regalia was an all too familiar sound for the Crown Prince to wake to. It vibrated gently against the side of his head; which had fallen against the window some minutes prior as he’d drifted to sleep. Blinking his darkened gaze awake, he carefully sat up him his seat before looking over to Drautos – who had apparently been attempting to wake him. How long had he been asleep? Not long, as they were still on the road leaving the Citadel.

“Hm?”

“That’s quite impressive…“ Titus remarked, his gaze flicking briefly out the left window.

Lazily Noctis turned his head to the side to look out of the window at the Citadel and beyond. Niflheim’s airships were hovering just outside of Insomnia on the other side of the Wall; a show of strength that his father seemed to have let slide. Only a few days earlier had King Regis summoned him to the throne room, detailing his marriage to Lady Lunafreya as part of the peace treaty that would secure Insomnia’s safety for years to come. Or atleast – that was how his father viewed it. Barely a moment had passed between those words of information; barely a moment to digest the fact he was about to be bartered off like a piece of meat, before Regis had continued to tell him that he’d be leaving the City immediately to meet Lady Lunafreya in a safer location; away from the prying eyes of Niflheim. Chances are she was already out of the City by now and well on her way to Hammerhead as well.

Noctis had refused. Strongly. Which had gotten him nowhere.

“Almost looks like a hostile takeover..” He muttered lazily, his gaze not once leaving the ships. The comment only earned him a scoff of amusement from Drautos.

The car pulled slowly into the barrier of the City limits and Drautos reached forward, pressing his hand against the display on the dash. A few moments later, the pillars restricting access ahead of them had lowered. With a brief wave to the commanding officer stood by the traffic, the barricade lowered and the Regalia continued on its journey.

Reaching down to the pocket of his suit, he pulled his phone free and let the screen flicker to life. Despite his attempted refusal to leave the City his Crownsguard had been sent on ahead of him to Hammerhead and were expected to meet him there that evening. Messages popped up onto his screen almost immediately.

Prom: Hey bud! You would never believe how COOL it is out here! Well I mean, it’s not cool, it’s scorching hot – but DUDE the photo opportunities are amazing.

Ignis: We are on our way to Hammerhead as requested and should arrive before night falls. Do try not to oversleep when Drautos picks you up.

_Trust Ignis to worry about his sleeping patterns over the treaty…_

A smirk touched his lips all but briefly until the first explosion of many echoed across the City with enough force to shake the road. Any previous tiredness was replaced with nothing but pure adrenaline as he dropped the phone to the floor and turned to look back at the Citadel they’d just left. Flames danced around the western tower and smoke billowed high up into the sky. Drautos slammed his foot against the brakes – consequently stalling the car - with enough impact to strike pain into Noctis’ shoulder from where he’d angled himself.

“Turn back.” His voice was but a whisper; the realisation only just setting in. The treaty was just a farce.

“I have orders to-“ Drautos started as he moved to start the ignition once more. It took a few tries to get it started and by the time he’d returned his gaze to the Prince, there was nothing but the empty leather upholstery and a brief glimmer of blue light.

He’d warped.

Drautos was going to kill him for it, but he’d managed to warp out of the car and a short distance away. There were barely any moving vehicles left on this road as it had previously been cleared for the ceremony and the Prince immediately took off in a sprint along it. It was foolish; it would take him hours to reach the Citadel considering the distance they’d driven but he had to try. The fastest route back would be through the suburbs of the City and avoiding the main roads certainly would attract the least attention. His image hadn’t been broadcast a great deal over the papers or news for fear of unwanted attention before his ascension to the throne but that didn’t mean Niflheim were so oblivious as to what the Crown Prince of Lucis looked like. 

Putting enough distance between himself and the Regalia – and likely the rage of Drautos – Noctis slowed his pace and took a brief moment to steady his breathing. How the hell did Prompto do this every morning?! It felt as if his lungs were on fire and he’d only been sprinting for a few minutes. A few more heaved breaths later and he was staring over the wall of the highway down to the neighbourhoods below. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach as he attempted to judge just how far down the fall was. Or, just how many bones he was likely to break in pulling off a stunt like this.

He’d escaped his room in the Citadel by warping more times than he could count and even that was quite a drop towards the ground. This was at least double the distance and triple the stomach-churning flips. Regardless, adrenaline still pumped in his veins from the fear that every second he wasted as a second he couldn’t get to his father; with that in mind he dragged himself up on to the barrier and summoned a dagger to his hand. Swallowing down any remaining doubts, he threw the blade down below into the shaded streets below.

Merely a couple of seconds passed before he tugged on the lingering connection between himself and the dagger; drawing the Crystal’s power to him as he stepped away from the barrier and dropped. The world seemed to jerk out of control for a moment; creating a horrendous yet familiar feel of disorientation. As the sparks of blue cleared from his vision, the Prince was rather relieved to find himself crouched against the tarmac street below the overpass with all of his bones intact – and his lunch, for that matter too. Warping wasn’t pretty; and was even less so when he did so on a full stomach.

He’d always been fussy with his eating habits – especially if the food offered was even the slightest shade of vegetable.

\--

“What’s wrong? Not eating?” Regis’ voice questioned from across the long table. The sun was high in the sky, and the two of them sat at either end of the large oak furniture. Concern briefly touched the Kings expression as he gazed over at the young boy opposite him; who had spent the last five minutes swirling around his soup with a spoon. 

Noctis didn’t raise his gaze and instead glanced down to the side as he replied. “Don’t like the taste.”

The Prince had once been so full of life that Regis couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the tone his son adopted. There wasn’t anything particularly rude in his manner of speaking, but it lacked the familiarity and warmth the two had once shared. Regardless, he let a soft smile grace his features whilst raising a spoonful.

“Now, you can’t say something like that. The chefs will lose their jobs.“ Placing the spoonful of soup to his lips, he swallowed it as his son finally raised his gaze to watch. Even he couldn’t help but grimace at the taste, before sticking his tongue out – which was undoubtedly stained green – at the young boy; who laughed for the first time in a long time. It was a sound that even Noctis wasn’t used to hearing himself make, and immediately he was reduced to an awkward blush afterwards; though he didn’t make another complaint as he ate the soup.

\--

The burn in the back of his legs was agony as he continued to sprint through the streets of Insomnia. Noctis had long since lost track of time; assuming at least an hour had passed since he’d desperately warped from the highway. Every step he took only heightened the level of fear in his gut; the level of realisation that his father had known all along what was going to happen. If Niflheim had waited to attack at the official starting time of the signing treaty he’d have already been half way to Hammerhead at least. Half way to safety.

Etros be damned, he wasn’t going to let his father face Niflheim alone.

A sudden weakness stopped him dead in his tracks. A blinding light above, and the sound of a thousand shattering mirrors. 

The Wall covering Insomnia fell. The Wall that had been maintained for over 150 years shattered and dispersed into the air above. If it had been any other occasion, the sight would have been beautiful enough to stop and marvel at.

It only meant the King needed the extra energy to fight. Surely? 

Darkness was beginning to fall over the City though the stars above were shrouded by the growing haze from the fires. Wherever Noctis ran, people were fleeing; many even clutching their children in their grasp as they passed. It was an instance such as this that caused the Prince to come to a halt after turning a street corner. Ash and smoke clouded the path but failed to obscure the woman across from him who had fallen to her knees amongst the rubble holding something before her. Her voice shrieked a name over and over again; it was only as Noctis neared that he could see why – and this time his stomach really did threaten to empty itself. There was a body within the frantic female’s grasp; a child no older than twelve or thirteen stood in the road just ahead of his mother. The woman was desperately trying to tug the petrified child away from something stepping out of the smoke ahead.

The clang of metal resounded against the pavement as a Magitek unit stepped free from the shroud of ash and debris. Seems the infantry had been deployed quickly.

It wasn’t the first time Noctis had seen one; often Niflheim brought the atrocities with them to border meetings. But to see one this close and to see it raise its gun at the child was honestly more than he could take. The screams of the woman ahead; the still and petrified stance of the young boy who couldn’t tear his eyes from the mechanical monstrosity.

Before he’d even realised his actions, Noctis circled to the right of the scene and launched his dagger free from his hand. At such an angle, it flew passed the woman and her child easily; with Noctis re-appearing in a flash of blue just before it hit its mark. Driving the blade with a surprising amount of force up into the unit’s neck. A crackle of electricity and a dark liquid erupted from the machines neck as it raised its sword. He tried to pull the dagger free but the weapon had entirely lodged itself and tangled with the wiring and black goo.

Releasing it from his grasp the Prince opted for kicking a boot square into the machines chest; the pure idiocy of the action clearly catching the unit off guard as it stumbled backwards and momentarily forgot that it had prepared a strike. It was that brief malfunction – or at least that was what Noctis assumed it was – that allowed him to summon the second dagger and finish it off with another strike at the exposed neck.

The unit clattered to the ground before fizzling away into a pile of smoke, ash and whatever that black goo was supposed to be.

“Oh my Six!” The woman shrieked from behind him, though this time her tone dripped with appreciation underneath the desperate panic she’d just been in. Noctis turned to see the two of them staring wide-eyed at him. “Thank you! Oh Six, thank you for saving us!” She repeated as the child huddled himself against his mother’s side. Noctis assumed they were both citizens considering the casual attire and neither seemed to recognise him as the Crown Prince; which only proved his earlier theory about getting through the streets unknown. Dismissing the daggers, he nodded his head briefly. 

“Yeah.” What else was there to say? Yeah, I saved you, but chances are you won’t reach the City walls. Chances are there’ll be nothing left of Insomnia by dawn. Both thoughts left him sick to his stomach as he stepped forward and crouched to the child’s height. Despite all the chaos and death around, there wasn’t the slightest bit mark of tears on his face. Perhaps from shock, but Noctis supposed he preferred to see the bravery in it. The innocence and confusion.

There was a brief pause; the mother still attempting to collect her own breath and thoughts before Noctis spoke again. “Take the exit on the West Wall and don’t stop until you reach the plains.” Another pause. “Get your mother out of here safely, right?”

The kid stared up at him with wide, hazel eyes before nodding. “Right!” And there it was, that flash of bravery and determination in the kids eyes that he took a moment to admire.

With that, the two of them left to continue their run down the street and towards the Wall.

An almighty roar broke out from somewhere else in the City forcing Noctis to cast his gaze up at the horizon. Something huge was moving through the lower suburbs; shrouded in an unnatural smoke as Imperial dropships flew behind it. Pieces of it began to open up like a capsule; with glowing red orbs underneath. The Prince hadn’t yet moved forward, but now it felt as if his feet were glued to the spot.

A Daemon?! The Empire was really that reckless?!

It was heading straight for the Citadel.

Determination lined his expression even more than ever as he turned to continue his approach to the Citadel. Darkness had entirely fallen over the City, with the only source of light being the fires that now burned ever so brightly where the Daemon’s explosive attacks struck the streets like bombs. The screams that had echoed continuously through the sky were no longer and Noctis supposed those who were still this deep in the City had already been handed their fate. 

Not a single Kingsglaive or Guard stood outside in the plaza of the Citadel as Noctis finally sprinted up the steps two at a time. He was almost near the top when he tripped over something heavy yet kept his footing and refused to look back. Nothing caught his gaze as he sprinted through the corridors to the chamber which had been designated for the signing; to the chamber where the Council had convened with Niflheim to establish final changes to the treaty before the ceremony. He didn’t notice the bodies, the blood, the state of the building.

All that mattered was being there for his father.

As such, as he reached the ajar grand doors to the Council meeting room he wasted no time in charging inside.

The sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

The sight stopped _his heart_ dead in its beats.

Whatever sound of horror he tried to make; whatever words he tried to speak only came out in a strangled choke. Among the countless bodies that littered the room only two of them stood out to him; two bodies that he couldn’t tear his gaze from. Firstly, led against amongst a pool of crimson in the centre of the room with a relaxed smile on her deathly still face was the all too familiar – regardless of the twelve years that had passed – form of the Oracle; of Lunafreya. Of his Luna. Awkwardly stepping forward and stumbling to his knees, he reached out a shaking hand as his mind attempted to comprehend what had happened. Why was she even in Insomnia? Regis had made it clear that the two of them were to meet away from Niflheim’s prying ears.

“Noctis…”

The words snapped his attention away from the fallen Oracle to a darker corner of the room. The voice; the words were so familiar but sounded unnaturally weak. A voice that had commanded an entire kingdom, had maintained the Crystal’s greatest protective barrier, that had raised him... But also the same voice he had argued so strongly with but a few hours prior.

“Father! I-..”

Noctis pushed himself back to his feet and near fell across the room to reach the slumped form of King Regis. His thoughts were a mess; his body numb and cold and only growing worse by the minute. Blood soaked the royal garments that his father wore, the colour nearly all but drained from his skin as he raised his gaze to Noctis; to his son. He had thought him to have escaped outside of the City by now, to safety, and yet here he was doing the exact opposite of the expected as usual. Yet there was no anger in his voice as he regarded his son, watching him drop to his knees beside him. The pure fear on Noctis’ expression wasn’t something Regis had wanted to see in his last moments; not at all. Moving his hand over to slide the Ring of Lucii free from his fingers, he wrapped his grasp around it momentarily before holding it forward to Noctis. Regis knew his vision was failing him, he knew he had but seconds to try and right any wrong that had befallen between the two.

Noctis stared at the offered ring as it was dropped into his shaking hand, his mouth couldn’t even form the words he wanted to say. He couldn’t think straight as he looked into the dying gaze of his father; of the man he’d strayed from and argued with.  
His breath caught in his throat before he finally managed to form words. “I’m sorry-.. I should have known, I should have-“

Regis shook his head, the same smile touching his lips as it had done all those years ago at the dinner table; laden with a guilt that Noctis could not see.

“Walk tall, my son.”

 

\---

 

The Present

The throne room had always been intimidating; whether that be when he’d been scolded as a child for sneaking out or as an adult for partying under-age. Now, in its darkness as Noctis settled himself down on the throne he only saw it as a fitting prison; ironic, considering he’d considered the Citadel such for most of his life. Leaning against his palm, the cold metal of the Ring of Lucii pressed against his face; which he paid little heed to. 

Niflheim had laid waste to Insomnia and weren’t going to stop until the Crystal was in their grasp. What could one boy-Prince do against an entire army? He’d follow in his father’s footsteps. In his grief – no matter how much he tried to convince himself of the numbness – he could only think of one way to protect what remained of the Crown City and the Crystal. Closing his crimson eyes and letting a sigh escape his paled lips, Noctis outstretched the hand that bore the Ring.

“Kings of Lucis.” The ring sent shots of agony up his arm, yet he continued. “Come to me.”

The light that filled the throne room was near blinding as bolts of blue and white struck the area around the steps. Noctis flinched before finally opening his eyes to behold whom he had summoned; thirteen spectral weapons floated amongst the steps up to the throne.

One intimidating voice spoke out; echoing through the room.

“It is not yet your time. Why do you summon us?”

“To rebuild what is lost.” There was a lack of emotion to Noctis’ voice, something he was grateful for. 

“You call on us for petty power?”

“I call on you because that crystal you cherish is about to become Niflheim’s next mantelpiece.”

“Your concerns are short-sighted.”

“Or perhaps yours are too long.” Noctis retorted quickly, briefly forgetting himself.

There was a pause with a deathly silence.

“Very well. The Wall shall remain as long as the King on his throne. Those are the terms.”

Noctis couldn’t help but let his previously emotionless thoughts drift to Ignis, Gladio and Prompto. All three of whom were likely in Hammerhead right now expecting him to roll up in the Regalia with Drautos. He hadn’t even had a chance to explain things. Ironic really, Gladio had been berating him for years about taking his duty seriously and now here he was about to super-glue himself to a throne for the sake of the Crystal. A low chuckle left his lips, though if the previous Kings of Lucis noticed; they didn’t comment on it.

“I needed a nap anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: 
> 
> 1\. I'm not actually sure who was driving the car in the scene, but I decided it looked most like Drautos. Unless Cor originally had more facial hair.
> 
> 2\. “Almost looks like a hostile takeover..” This line was actually incredibly hard to translate, with the main suggestion being military occupation. 'Looks like it's occupied?' so I had to loosen the translation up a bit for it to make sense.


End file.
